


Fade to Black Inside

by avidfangirllife



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidfangirllife/pseuds/avidfangirllife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started 12 years ago when Jake Griffin was killed in a car accident and as a result, Clarke lost the first number one man in her life.<br/>Five years after that, just when she had finally gotten together with her best friend, Wells, he was taken from her too.<br/>Two years after that, the "Finn Debacle" (as she and Raven had come to refer to it as) happened and destroyed what was left of Clarke's ability to form attachments to the men that came into her life. Except for him. Because he had been there for the last five years and he wasn't going to let her shut him out like she had the rest of the male population. He would be there for her in any way she would let him for as long as it took.</p><p>Or, the one where Clarke has a rough night and Bellamy is there to get her through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I need you here tonight

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been working on this or a while and I finally got to a point where I'm comfortable posting what I have so far. There will definitely be a part 2! I may also be inspired to write a mini prequel at some point.  
> Enjoy! ❤
> 
> Also, title for Work and Chapter from Zzzz by The Cab!

It all started 12 years ago when Jake Griffin was killed in a car accident and as a result, Clarke lost the first number one man in her life.

Five years after that, just when she had finally gotten together with her best friend, Wells, he was taken from her too.

Two years after _that_ , the "Finn Debacle" (as she and Raven had come to refer to it as) happened and destroyed what was left of Clarke's ability to form attachments to the men that came into her life. Except for him. Because he had been there for the last five years and he wasn't going to let her shut him out like she had the rest of the male population. He would be there for her in any way she would let him for as long as it took.

 

* * *

 

2 hours.

Clarke had spent the last 2 hours pretending she was fine. She should have just stayed home. Of course Octavia and Raven tried to convince her they didn't mind leaving early with her, but she guilted them into staying.

"I'll just feel bad all weekend if I think I've ruined your night out," Clarke said.  It wasn't the whole truth.

Her best friends recognized it as the manifestation of her desire to deal with it alone. She would come to them when she was ready.

As soon as she got outside, she called him.

"Can you please come and get me? I can't be here anymore. I want to go home." The ground was slipping out from under her feet, faster with each word that passed through her lips.

"You with O?" Came the deep voiced response from the other end of the line.

"Yeah."

"I'll be right there."

 

When Bellamy’s truck pulled up to the curb, Clarke took one last steadying breath before sliding into the passenger seat. Avoiding eye contact, she reached around behind her chair for the oversized sweatshirt she knew Bellamy kept in his car.

(He had taken to keeping an extra sweatshirt in his car at all times after the first time the two of them went to dinner and Clarke spend the night visibly shaking because she always got cold while she was eating dinner. After that night, he made sure he always had an oversized sweatshirt-her favorite-in the backseat of his car. Just in case.)

She took her time pulling it over her head, inhaling his lingering scent in the material while her face was still hidden inside.  She needed something to ground her, get her emotions back in check.  She settled into the silence for a long minute before his voice broke through.

"Want to talk about it?" Bellamy asked.

Clarke shook her head. "Not yet."

She kept her gaze out the passenger window, the tears that filled in her eyes distorting the view. She would not look at him. _Not yet._

"Whenever you're ready," Bellamy said, eyes fixed on her profile.

He saw the tears as they began trailing down her cheeks, but they didn't scare him. It was the silence that had his stomach turning. He knew Clarke and if she held back now, she would be that much worse later. Her eyes closed and her breathing deepened with the effort to keep as much composure as she could manage.  He watched as she lifted her palm to her cheek and dragged her arm across it, slowly wiping the traitorous tears before coming to rest her head on her arm against the window.  Her eyes stayed closed.

His hand itched to reach out and stroke back the hair that rested across her bare cheek.  Instead, he gripped the gear shift tighter, slid the car into drive, turned his gaze toward the road, and eased on the gas pedal trying not to startle her with the motion.

Bellamy drove her home in silence. The only sounds in the car were Clarke's heavy breaths and his pounding heartbeat which he was sure she could hear. He didn't move to turn on the radio and neither did she.

 

As soon as the truck was in park, Clarke bolted out of the door and into her apartment. She didn't need to look behind her to know Bellamy was following her inside. If Clarke could count on one thing, it was that Bellamy would always follow her unless she asked him not to. He was always there. Even when she didn't deserve it. Even now.

She got inside and headed straight for her bedroom where she collapsed on her knees beside the bed, hands covering her face, finally allowing the sobs to break through. She felt large hands pull her sideways. She let herself melt into Bellamy's arms.  He let her bury her pain and tears in his chest.  One hand gripped her shoulder tight, the other rubbed circles on her back. He whispered soothingly into her ear until her shaking slowed slightly. Once he thought he could manage it, he lifted her up into his arms - one under her knees, the other behind her back. She wrapped hers around his neck and pulled herself closer. His shirt was wet with her tears and there were streaks of black from the mascara that she has cried off. He sat down and moved them up to the head of her bed, keeping her in his arms. Her head stayed on his shoulder. One of his hands moved up to stroke her hair away from her face as he has longed to do earlier that night. He didn't stop when her hair was safely behind her ear. He kept running his fingers through her golden waves until her sobs subsided into sniffles.

Clarke climbed off his lap, still sniffling, a few stray tears still crawling down her cheeks.  She changed into boxer shorts she had stolen from Bellamy earlier that year and removed all the layers under the sweatshirt she had taken from his car earlier that night.

 

She crawled back into bed and curled up next to Bellamy resting her head on his shoulder once again. She tangled both of her legs up with one of his and rested an arm on his chest. Clarke sniffled one last time.

“Thanks for coming to get me, B” she said, finally free of her tears.

“It’s what I’m here for. Just go to sleep.  It’ll be better in the morning.”  He stroked her hair soothingly with one hand, holding her close with the other.

She stayed quiet for a moment before asking, “You won’t leave me, will you?”

“Shh. I’m not going anywhere. Sleep.”  He kept his voice soft like a lullaby.

“I lo-”

“Shh.  In the morning.”   _Not like this._

He continued stroking her hair as her breathing evened out.

“I love you too, princess,” he whispered into the night.

 

 


	2. How long can this go on?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while ago, and I may end up coming back and adding more. I don't even know if this is any good actually, but this is what I had imagined for the next morning :)
> 
> Sorry it took so long! If you do actually read this, I hope you like it!

The next morning, Bellamy awoke early with a full bladder. Clarke was still curled up against him where she had fallen asleep the night before. Only now her leg was pillowed atop his stomach, the dead weight causing her to apply extra pressure in the most inconvenient place. At the thought of having to move from underneath the girl currently snuggled into his side, Bellamy considered trying to wait it out, but in the end nature won.

He began to stroke her hair, trying to wake her gently so she could fall back asleep quickly and easily once he had maneuvered himself from beneath her.

"Princess," he whispered softly into her ear. "I need to get up for a minute"

Clarke grunted in protest, grabbing him tighter and moving her leg so it now wrapped all the way around his other side, aiding her attempt to keep him in place.

Bellamy chuckled and said, "I'll be right back. Promise," sealing his promise with a soft kiss to her forehead.

Clarke only replied with a hum and another quick squeeze before she rolled over to lay on her stomach facing away from him.

He watched her reach up and pull the pillow over her head to block the faint lines of dawn light filtering in through the narrow cracks of her blackout curtains.  Clarke was asleep again almost immediately, just as he had hoped, and Bellamy turned toward the bathroom.

When Bellamy returned to the bed, Clarke hadn't moved, except now the pillow was only covering the front of her face, exposing the back of her head. He laid back down next to her - where he had been before he left - and began to run his fingers through the golden waves pouring out from beneath the pillow.

He knew the moment Clarke was awake. Nothing had changed, but he could _feel_ her thoughts filling the air. She turned her head so her face was to him and he pulled his hand back from her hair to give her more space. Clarke grabbed his other hand and pulled it into her hair, the movement forcing him to roll onto his side. His fingers began to once again work their way slowly through her hair. It was meant to soothe and relax her, but over time it had begun to do the same for him.

She laid there, staring straight ahead. He knew she wasn’t really _seeing_ him. Her mind was elsewhere. She would talk when she was ready. She just needed time.

They stayed like that for 13 minutes before Clarke spoke, words following her gaze, still directed at his body rather than his face. It was easier for her that way. Bellamy _saw_ her more than anyone else. She couldn't pretend with him. It was why she had called him the previous night, why she had asked him to stay with her, and why she wanted him there now.

When her voice did come, it was in a whisper. "It was a song. At the party. A throwback. One we used to drive around learning to when he got his licence."

_So this is about Wells then._

The way she paused again after speaking, he knew there would be more. That wasn't everything.

"And yesterday morning I accidentally got paint on one of my dad's old t-shirts. The permanent kind."

More silence.

Clarke finally looked up at him, as if expecting judgement she should know wouldn't come. Not from Bellamy.

"I know it sounds stupid, I just-"

"Hey," Bellamy said, finally cutting in. "It's not stupid. You miss them. You're allowed to miss them. Whether you spill paint on a shirt, or hear a song, or just feel like thinking about them. You're going to have days like that. It's okay. I'll always be here when you do. Remember that."

Clarke's eyes glossed over again before she closed them and Bellamy leaned forward to press a long kiss against her forehead. When he pulled back, Clarke opened her eyes and held his gaze once again. She placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled it down to hers, their lips meeting. He sighed in relief at the contact.

It wasn't their first kiss, not by a long shot. But it was the first time Clarke really let herself _feel_ Bellamy. Let herself open up to him completely in a way she thought she would never allow herself to do again. But this was _Bellamy_. His lips soft against hers, not trying to deepen the kiss or speed up the pace. Content to let her take the lead.

When they did pull apart. Bellamy pulled her head into his chest and held it there.  


When they finally climbed out of bed, Clarke went to go take a long shower and Bellamy made his way to the couch and the television.  After the night Clarke had, he figured it was probably best to fish out the emotional emergency movies and spend the day lazing.  He set up the player so it would be ready when Clarke came into the room and went to the kitchen to find some food. He settled on chocolate pop-tarts. Pop-tarts were basically breakfast food, right? And they were chocolate, so that seemed appropriate. He grabbed the box and a couple bottles of water and set them on the table in front of the couch before he took his seat in the corner of the couch. Here, he left Clarke with enough room to decide where she wanted to sit or if she wanted to lay down.

He knew she was probably still exhausted. Crying tended to take a lot out of her, especially considering that Clarke didn't do it too often. And when she did, she usually preferred to be alone. Except for last night when she had asked him to stay with her. Bellamy tried not to think about what that meant. He also tried not to think about the words he had cut her off from saying.

_I love you._

He did love her. He had for years now. He knew that. He was pretty sure she knew it too. He was also pretty sure she loved him in her own _Clarke_ way. He just hadn't figured out if that meant the same thing for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed? ❤ Kudos and Comments are _very greatly_ appreciated! They make my day  
>  You can also come find me on [tumblr](http://brayvenlarke.tumblr.com)!
> 
> so, I definitely have half of the next chapter written, but I keep getting distracted by other fics! I'm really sorry for the delay, but I promise it will come eventually. I just don't know when.


End file.
